


Kind Soul

by coconutskins



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/F, can't let go of this one, don't even ask, please keep it between us y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconutskins/pseuds/coconutskins
Summary: Angie just experienced the biggest weeks of her career. She won the US Open, she's claimed that number one spot - but now she is struggling. And she can't for the love of God make out why.





	1. Wuhan and Beijing

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part. But I'll wait to see how things unfold in Hong Kong before I start writing that one, okay?

+++

The real problem is that she hasn’t got a clue what the problem is. 

New York City was fantastic, she felt (and played) great – all the way through – she easily sat through the press marathon after, enjoying it, even. She managed to come down from it all and relax a little at home with her family, she had no problem getting back on court with Torben only 10 days later and even the expected jet lag after that endless 13 hours flight to Wuhan was bearable. 

And still. Wuhan was a mess, pretty much. A rather pointless one, too. And she wasn’t kidding when she snapped at Torben (in the middle of the match, no less) that she wanted to fly the _fuck_ back home. Because honestly – what was the point again?! 

The thing is - of course she knows she’s being ridiculous. She knows that she needs to calm it, needs to find her focus again – new city, new challenges etc – just like her social media team put it right after her loss against Petra – but her mind is _reeling_. And she can’t seem to shut it off.

Angie sighs. She takes off her jacket, kicks off her shoes next and sits down on her hotel bed. She takes a large gulp from the water bottle that's been sitting on her night stand, puts it back, shifts backwards a few more inches and eventually lies down.

How did it go again?

_‘Put your hands on your stomach.’_

_‘Now breathe in. Slowly and deeply.’  
‘Let the air stream into your lower abdomen, your middle abdomen and then into your chest.’_

_‘Can you feel it?’_

_‘Now – slowly – exhale through your mouth. Let the chest air out first, then the air in your middle and lastly the air in your lower abdomen.’_

_‘Keep your eyes closed. And breathe. Just breathe.’_

Angie’s just starting to relax a little when her phone beeps.

_For fuck’s sake._

She opens her eyes again and reaches for it.

It’s a text message.

_‘Congrats on reaching the R16! ☺ And good luck against Svitolina, I’ll be watching!’_

It’s kind of funny that the same person who taught her these breathing technics just interrupted her doing them. _Trying_ to do them. Angie feels like she doesn’t quite get them right yet. 

It certainly worked better in New York.

Angie looks back at her phone, rereads the message and eventually sends a short _‘Thanks’_ in reply.

_‘Everything okay?’_

Ugh damn.

_'Yeah, sure. I’m just tired.'_

Lie.

She’s just… she doesn’t even know.

_'I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Get some sleep then.'_

Angie sighs. 

The truth is… oh well. She misses having Cathrin around. She’d somehow given her a good feeling – about herself, her body, her mind. She’d managed to talk her down from pointless freak-outs, pulled her out of phases of uneasiness and uncertainty, she’d given her stability, somehow. She'd simply made her feel good. And she could sort of use that right now.

_'I just tried your Yoga breathing exercises. And failed. ;-)'_

_'There is no failing in Yoga, Angie.'_

Angie snorts. They’ve been having this exact discussion a dozen times already. Right from day one, in fact. She can actually picture Cathrin’s face while she typed that. 

_'I’m so special, I can even fail at something you can’t actually fail at.'_

That was… way too much and way too dramatic and she knows it.  
But maybe she wants Cathrin to worry about her a little. Maybe she needs that sort of attention right now.

Does that make her an awful person?

_'What’s wrong? Are you sure you’re okay?'_

Yeah, it does.

So. Deflection.

_'Did you get to see my match today?'_

_'I was working. I missed it.'_

_'Well, it was awful.'_

_'You won.'_

_'So? It was still bad. I didn’t feel comfortable.'_

_'But you’re not injured, are you?'_

_'No.'_  
_'I don’t know.'_  
_'Having some issues with my leg. Nothing bad.'_

_'What sort of issues? Did you speak to André?'_

_'Of course. He taped it. It’s nothing.'_

_'You have to look after yourself, Angie. Don’t overdo it. It’s okay to take a break.'_

_'I’m fine.'_

For a moment she thinks that this is it, that Cathrin is done replying. Then she can see her typing... then there's nothing once again. Then the typing dots are back and, after a few more seconds, finally:

_'Is there anything I can do?'_

Fly over. Ditch your stupid patients. I need you here.

Duh.

Maybe she should just say this. Maybe, if she’d said exactly this a few weeks ago instead of shrugging when Cathrin asked her whether she needed her for Asia or not, things would be different now. 

_'Angie?'_

_'Well, you’re not here. So, no, you can’t do anything.'_

She’s such a dramatic idiot.

_'André is a great physio. Just talk to him.'_

_'Yeah. Okay. Good night.'_

+++

She fucks it up against Svitolina, of course she does. 

Her thigh is hurting even more now and she hasn’t got a clue whether she can even play in Hong Kong. The truth is – she wants to go home.

“Angie, calm down.”

“I don’t see the point in staying here! What for? Further embarrassment?“

Torben sighs. “Let’s get back to the hotel, okay? Get some rest. Then André will have a look at your leg and-“

“He clearly hasn’t got a clue what he’s doing!”

“Angie, come on,” Torben says, “You’re being unfair.”

“Oh, really?” Angie snaps, “I didn’t have these problems in New York. Or Cincinnati.”

+++

In the end she’s of course going back to the hotel. She has some early dinner, another – slightly quieter – conversation with Torben and eventually retires to her hotel room.

Her phone greets her with two missed calls (and several unread text messages that she’s going to ignore for now). One call is from her sister. The other one from Cathrin.

She calls Jessica.

They’re doing this thing they always do in these kind of situations. They avoid whatever it is that’s bothering Angie at the moment, Jessica tells her random things about her day, tells her about that one customer who complains _every single time_ – and still returns to her salon at least once a week. Jessy sends her regards from her colleagues, mutual friends and family and then:

“So, how are you?”

“I don’t know. Not too great.”

“It’s me, you know,” Jessy says, ”You can be honest.”

“I fucked up. My leg hurts. I have no idea what my problem is.”

Jessy laughs. “Okay.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No. Sorry. What about the leg... how bad is it?”

“I don’t know,” Angie sighs, “And André doesn’t know it either. I don’t know why he’s even here. Fucking pointless.”

“I didn’t understand anyway why you didn’t take,” and Jessy pauses for a second to then imitate Angie’s voice as good as she can _“She knows me so well, she’s doing such a great job, I just know she’ll always be there for me!!”_ – with you instead.”

“Jessy, shut up!”

Jessy laughs. “I’m serious. Why isn’t she with you?”

“She works for several people. She’s busy.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Jessy rolls her eyes. “I know that she works for several people, Angie, but I’m pretty sure she would’ve come with you if you’d just asked her. You were a great team.”

Angie shrugs. “She said she didn’t have time.”

“She did?”

Not really, but…

“She asked whether I needed her here… or if she could make other appointments.”

“So you said _‘No, I don’t need you.’_ ”

“I’m not going to fucking beg.”

“Jesus Christ, Angie.”

Angie sighs. “Can we talk about something else? I don’t know why we’re talking about this.”

“Because you’ve been telling me about how very amazing she is every single day while you were home just to-“

“Oh shut up, I didn’t.“

“Just to replace her the next day and I’m just… really confused.”

“It wasn’t my decision,” Angie says, “I already told you that.”

“It’s your team. It's always your decision. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you need her around. The question is – why is that?”

+++

_‘How is your thigh? Call me when you get the chance. C.’_

It’s way past midnight in Beijing and she should really get some sleep. 

_‘I’m gonna be okay. Don’t worry about it,’_ she types, presses 'send' and then she turns off the lights and pulls the covers up to her chin.

It only takes a few seconds and then her phone lights up with another text.

_‘May I call you?’_

No.

_‘Yeah, sure.’_

She watches her phone ring for a few moments, takes a deep breath and eventually answers it.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey. I know it’s late there,” Cathrin says, “But I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, Angie thinks, Cathrin knows exactly that she’s _not_ okay. 

“Couldn’t have done that through text?!”

There’s a pause and then. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just gonna-“

Fuck. “ _No._ No, I’m sorry, “ Angie turns on the lights again and sits up a little, “I’m not okay. I don’t… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“André says it’s not a strain, probably just a tight muscle.”

“You talked to him?” _What the Hell?_

“You weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to know what’s wrong.”

“And he told you what’s wrong?” Angie asks, “Because he didn’t tell me.”

Cathrin sighs. “Why are you making things so difficult for him? Give him some credit, Angie, he’s good at his job. And you know that.”

“Is that why you’re calling? To tell me to be nicer to him?”

“No, I’m calling, because I’m worried about you.”

Angie scoffs.

“And since I’m not there to take care of you you’re gonna have to let him do it.”

Angie swallows. Her heart speeds up a little bit and she knows that she might be getting closer to the bottom of things now, she also knows that this is probably what Jessy was referring to, earlier, but none of that is making things any easier right now. 

“I’m letting him,” she says then, “But he doesn’t know me like you do. He doesn’t… doesn’t know my body like you do.”

Is that thin ice already? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about anymore. She’s having a headache and it’s too damn late.

“Give him some time.”

Fuck this.

“What is that?” she snaps, kicks off the covers and gets up from the bed, “Are you trying to let me down easy? Is that you telling me that you don’t want to be part of my team anymore?”

Okay. _Okay._ She needs to calm down.

“No,” Cathrin says, “But right now I’m not part of the team. He is.”

“Yeah. And why is that?”

“I asked you whether you’d need me there,” Cathrin says, “You said no.”

“You know that’s bullshit, Cathrin. Come on now.”

“I told the whole damn world how much I appreciate you,” Angie adds, “It wasn’t enough, I guess.”

She needs to shut up.

“At least it got you new clients. Congrats to you. Tough luck for me.”

_Shut. Up._

Angie’s standing by the window now. It’s pitch-dark outside, not a soul is in sight. She’s leaning her head against the cold glass and closes her eyes. The silence seems to be stretching endlessly and just when she thinks Cathrin might’ve hung up on her she speaks again:

“I could try to make Singapore.”

“What?”

“I could… cancel some appointments. Or postpone them.”

“No,” Angie says, “No, you don’t have to do that.”

“Angie…”

“I mean,” Angie sighs, “I _do_ want you there. But I don’t want you to drop everything. Just for this.”

In fact, this is exactly what she wants. She just doesn’t want to ask for it, she didn’t think she’d _have_ to ask for it, to be completely honest. She thought it’d go without saying that – after New York, after the success they had together, after the connection they’d built up between them over the past few months (or, you know, the connection she’d apparently _dreamed up_ ) – that they’d of course keep working together. 

“Why are you making this so difficult?”

I don’t know.

_‘You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that you need her around. The question is – why is that?’_

I don’t _know!_

“I do need you here,” Angie says, eventually, “If you could make that possible.. Singapore, I mean.. that’d be great.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure there is a way.”

“Okay. Good,” Angie says, “Thanks.”

"You should maybe think about skipping Hong Kong, Angie."

"It's not that bad!"

"Maybe not. But the mind needs to recover, too, you know?"

This is why she really... likes her. And needs her back.

"My mind is just fine."

Cathrin laughs. "Okay. If you say so. But take some time away from tennis. You still have a few days."

"Thank God I flopped early, uh?"

Cathrin sighs. "You know this isn't what I meant."

"I know. Sorry," Angie says, "I'll do that. Some sightseeing-"

"Some shopping."

Angie laughs. "One day I'll drag you with me."

"No fucking way."

Angie is still grinning and, well, it has been a while. "What if it'd be good for my mental recovery?"

"What about _my_ mental state? I'd certainly need an extended holiday after that."

"Hey! I'm not that bad," Angie laughs.

"Torben had literally gone _pale_ during your shopping trip in New York. He hadn't seen the sun for that long."

Angie snorts. "Now you're just being mean."

"And you've been laughing a lot. That's good."

It really is. God, she's feeling _much_ better already, better than she has in days. It's ridiculous, really, and it should probably tell her something.

"Yeah. Thank you," Angie says, "I needed that."

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

"I do."

They fall silent then. Angie kind of wants to tell her something. Nothing.. big, just that, yeah, she's feeling much better and it is because of you and I really fucking need you around and I really do like you a lot and-

"You should probably get some sleep. It must be late."

"Yeah," Angie swallows, "It's past one. I should go back to bed."

"I didn't wake you earlier, did I?"

"No. No, you didn't."

"Okay. Good night then. Sleep well."

"Good night."

+++


	2. Singapore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WTA finals in Singapore. 
> 
> Angie's favorite physio is back and things are going pretty well at first.. then not.. then things get awkward (because - have you met Angie? of course things are getting awkward) and then, well. Then I booked my place in Hell! Y'all are welcome to join me. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's even more fictional than last time since reality refused to follow part one of my fanfic and Angie's NYC-physio didn't rejoin the team in Singapore. Since I'd already written quite a bit of this (including some details about the first 3 matches, so don’t get confused when this doesn’t fit with what really happened in Singapore either) I decided to post it anyway! (Also – Angie name-dropped her physio girl on TV the other day so we can at least be sure that she’s still part of #TeamAngie and will probably be around for the slams next year. Which is something, right? Baby steps.)

+++

"Okay, that’s it,“ Cathrin says, gives her shoulder one last squeeze and turns away. Angie takes a deep breath, not moving an inch. She isn’t ready to open her eyes just yet, she feels so… relaxed, so calm, so very good. It’s like her body is thanking her for finally letting the right person - the right hands - touch her again. Which is by far the cheesiest, most ridiculous, most embarrassing thought she’s ever had, but… it’s just a thought. 

Nobody knows, nobody will _ever_ know. 

+++

“You sound awfully cheerful.”

“Am I supposed to apologize for that?”

“No,” Jessy laughs, “But you’re supposed to tell me _everything_. I’m your sister.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Oh, come on,” Jessy says, “You made a woman fly halfway across the world for you. I need to know your secrets!”

“You want women to fly halfway across the world for you? That’s interesting news.”

Jessy rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

There _is_ nothing to tell, though. Cathrin did come to Singapore for her, yes, and it’s a blessing, really, because it’s only been three days since her arrival and Angie is already feeling much better, she actually feels ready for that tournament – both physically and mentally – and, honestly, it’s been a while. But that’s it.

“I don’t know what you want to hear.”

“Have you told her yet that you’re totally in love with her?” Jessy asks and Angie can practically hear her sister’s grin right through the phone.

“Shut up.”

“Well, I hope you’re being more charming with her.”

Angie sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, “But would you finally drop this? It’s getting ridiculous.”

“You were pining for her like crazy.”

“This wasn’t... I needed her back on my team, yes, but—“

“Oh, stop it,” Jessy interrupts her, “Are you really trying to tell me that you begged her to fly all the way to freaking _Singapore_ for a few physio sessions?”

“I didn’t beg. She offered.”

“Even better,” Jessy shrugs, “The feelings might be mutual then.”

“Jess...”

“What?” Jessy asks, “Why is it so hard for you to admit that you’re having a little crush on that woman?”

Because she doesn’t. Have a crush on Cathrin, that is.

Because, okay, she might have a tiny, little crush on her, but it’s ridiculous and she doesn’t have time for this and it doesn’t make sense anyway. 

And it’s most definitely not mutual. 

Not to mention that she’s already made a complete fool of herself, basically (and Jessy wasn’t too wrong there) begging Cathrin to join her, telling her that she needed her, showing way too much weakness towards someone she’d basically only just met. Cathrin, thankfully, hasn’t mentioned any of that again and Angie is definitely not going to fuck things up by adding another stupid confession to the list.

+++

_‘If I was in Singapore with you (two) I’d set you up. In one way or other. I’d be a total pain about it.’_

_‘You’re pretty good at being a pain about it from afar.’_

_‘Rude.’_

Angie laughs, shakes her head and puts her phone away. 

“You should finish that bottle before practice, Angie. It’s very humid outside today.”

Oh, right. 

Cathrin is right there with her. She was sitting right across to her at the breakfast table already when Angie was still texting back and forth with her sister who doesn’t seem to be anywhere near being done with that particular topic. This girl is exhausting as Hell.

“You okay?”

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Angie says, she shoots her physiotherapist a small smile and empties her water bottle in two large gulps.

+++

She easily wins the first two matches, the second one in under an hour, even, and she’s still buzzing from it all. Not (only) because she won tonight’s game – everybody expected her to – but because of how very smoothly it went. She was right in it from the first minute, she felt strong – all the way through – there was no pain, not a second of doubt. It was perfect.

“If you keep playing like that you’ll win the whole thing,” Torben says.

Angie grins, “Of course I’ll win the whole thing.”

Torben laughs, “Okay. Good.”

“What?” Angie asks and gives her coach a small shove, “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I do,” Torben smiles, “You’ve been very convincing. You really impressed me today.”

“Thank you,” Angie says, “I feel good.”

“I can tell.”

Angie smiles. Her thoughts immediately wander to Cathrin who’s been pretty much at her back and call the past few days. They’d fallen right back into that New York City routine with at least two treatment sessions a day and a lot of active and passive recovery work and breakfast together and sometimes dinner. This is where it usually ends, though, and Angie certainly shouldn’t be disappointed by that, but. Well. She is.

She isn’t even sure what she expected, really, it’s not like they’d been close friends before, it’s not like their relationship had ever been anything else than strictly professional. But after those texts they’d exchanged and the Beijing late night calls and after Cathrin had actually come to Singapore just for her Angie couldn’t help but expect _something_. A few subtle changes, maybe, a handful of private, not tennis-related conversations, some time spent together off court and outside the treatment room. A certain closeness, maybe, possibly. 

God, she doesn’t know.

+++

Match three goes all kinds of wrong. She races through the first set, but then somehow loses focus. She knows deep down that she doesn’t necessarily have to win this one to make it to the semis and still she feels stressed out and under pressure and completely folds in the third set.

They’re back at the hotel now, she’s back in her hotel room already, together with Cathrin who’s technically here to have a look at her shoulder that’s been acting up again during the match, but who instead spent the past ten minutes trying to calm her down.

“Hey,” Cathrin tries again, reaching for her to stop her from pacing (and to finally check that shoulder) “Stop beating yourself up about this.”

“I completely embarrassed myself!” Angie says and shrugs Cathrin’s hand off.

“That’s not true. It was a tight match.”

Bullshit.

“Did you even see it?!”

Of course she did. Angie spotted her, several times, when looking up to her box. The physiotherapist was oozing calmness, as always, but this time Angie somehow couldn’t absorb any of it.

“It’s obvious you don’t know anything about tennis,” she snaps.

There’s a pause and then: “Maybe you should speak to Torben instead.”

_Shit._

God, why can’t she ever keep her mouth shut? Why does she have to be a bitch. To Cathrin, of all people?

“No,” Angie says, quickly, “I’m sorry.” She sighs, turning away from the other woman. “I don’t know how you’re even dealing with my bullshit. I don’t know how you haven’t kicked my ass yet.”

“Don’t worry. It’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not,” Angie says, turning around again to face her, “You’ve only ever been amazing. Without you,” she pauses, laughs, “Well, we both know what happens to me, to my game, when you’re not around.”

Cathrin shakes her head, smiling, “It’s been a long season. It’s only normal that—“

“No,” Angie says, “Just accept it already. I need you.”

She averts her gaze, swallowing. She can’t really deal with this sort of thing. Her heart is hammering madly in her chest and she hasn’t even revealed half of what she’s feeling, of what she _might_ be feeling, because, honestly, she hasn’t got a clue. Not really. It’s all so confusing and she hates it when she can’t keep her emotions in check, hates showing weakness and being needy and all of this is kind of happening here.

“I think I should get some sleep,” she says then.

“Let me check your shoulder first,” Cathrin says, quietly.

Angie shakes her head. “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Sit down on the bed.”

“Cathrin, really, it’s nothing.”

“I’m not leaving before I’ve made sure of that.”

Angie sighs. She does as she’s told, though, sits down on the bed, unzips her jacket and shrugs it off. When Cathrin’s hands come to rest on her shoulders she can’t help but tense up. Cathrin’s quiet, murmured _‘relax’_ isn’t helping either and she curses her body for being such a traitor.

“Nothing’s torn or strained,” Cathrin says after a while, “I think your shoulder just needs rest.”

Angie nods.

“Thank you.”

Cathrin steps away from her then and grabs her bag. “Do you need anything else?”

Angie lets out a quiet laugh and shakes her head. If there has ever been ambiguity about the nature of their relationship (and there hasn’t been any outside of her own, stupid head) it’s definitely been cleared up now. She’s basically being turned down (as a friend, even) before she could make something like a move. Which is, you know, it’s funny. But it’s better that way, Cathrin is basically just sparing her the embarrassment of an explicit rejection.

“Angie?”

“No. I don’t need anything. Thanks,” Angie says, “And I’m sorry for making you come here that late.”

“Why are you saying this?”

Angie shrugs. “Because I mean it?”

“You do realize that I’m only in Singapore because of you, right? For you. I’ve nowhere else to be anytime soon. So whenever you need me…”, she trails off.

Angie nods. “Yeah.”

Cathrin sighs. “You have to stop worrying about these things, Angie. You have nothing to worry about.”

+++

“You’re her boss. What do you expect from her?

“I’m not expecting anything.”

“You clearly do. I can literally picture you sitting there, expecting a very particular move or sentence or whatever it is, getting mad when she doesn’t deliver exactly that.”

“I’m not angry at _her_ ,” Angie snaps.

“I know,” Jessy says. And when Angie says nothing for a while she adds, “You’re really into her, aren’t you?”

“I just like her," Angie shrugs, "But she doesn’t like me. That’s it.”

Jessy rolls her eyes. “What are you, 14? And of course she likes you.”

“She’s just doing her job.”

Jessy sighs. “You really are a handful, you know that, right?”

Angie says nothing.

“Angie, even if she wanted to make sweet love to you, there’s—“

“Jess!”

“There’s no way she’d make a move on you. She’s working for you, you’re her boss. And she’s way too professional to do anything she’s not supposed to do.”

Angie snorts.

“What?”

“You seem to know her well considering you’ve never met her.”

Jessy laughs, “You haven’t talked about anything but her for months, honey.”

+++

It’s half past one and Angie can’t sleep. She already tried listening to some music, she watched the beginning of a movie she’d never heard of before, read a couple of pages from her book - but nothing helped, she’s still wide awake. She thinks about calling her sister again, it’s only early evening in Germany after all, but the truth is she doesn’t really feel like talking right now. Especially not about that, about her. Not again.

What she does instead is – she texts her. (‘Are you still up?’) Because she’s stupid and needy and she longs for her so badly right now it isn’t funny anymore. 

She stares at the screen, for a minute, for five minutes, but nothing happens. Cathrin is asleep, of course she is. Angie is just about to put her phone away again when she gets a reply.

_‘Yes.’_  
‘Why?’  
‘Are you okay?’ 

Will she ever not ask that question?! Angie thinks about making something up; pain in her shoulder, her thigh, something that’d explain why she’s texting her physiotherapist at half past one in the bloody morning – she settles for the truth instead. Parts of it, at least.

_‘I’m fine. I just can’t sleep.’_

She doesn’t know what sort of reply she expects, she shouldn’t even expect any kind of reply, because – honestly – what the Hell is she doing?

_‘Anything I can do? Do you need something?’_

Angie hesitates. She doesn’t know what on Earth makes her do this, but eventually she asks, _‘Would you mind if I came over?’_

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Still no reply.

_Shit._

She’s fucked things up for good now, hasn’t she? Honestly, what was she thinking?

_‘No, I don’t mind. Come over. Room 254.’_

+++

It’s been ten minutes already since Cathrin’s reply and Angie still hasn’t left her room. She has put on some cotton sweats, her shoes, she’s already standing by the door, in fact, but she just can’t bring herself to step outside. She kind of wants to text Cathrin again, chicken out, tell her that she’s changed her mind about wanting to come over, but she can’t do that, can she? She doesn’t even really want to do that. She wants to see her, she does, but maybe she should’ve thought the whole thing through a bit more. Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this at half past one - almost two - in the morning. In Singapore. In the middle of the WTA-finals.

Angie sighs, she grabs her key card and steps out into the deserted hallway.

+++

Cathrin’s room is on the same floor, just a few doors away, Angie has no idea how to explain the 15 minutes it took her to get there.

She knocks.

Cathrin opens the door right away, wearing only shorts and a white t-shirt. The TV is running in the background, her laptop is sitting on the nightstand, the bed is unmade, the bed sheets are rumpled and Angie just wants to apologize and leave.

“Hey,” Cathrin says, smiling at her, “Come in.”

“Thanks,” Angie says and steps inside the room, brushing past the other woman, “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” she asks.

“No. I couldn’t really sleep either,” Cathrin shrugs, “It’s too hot.”

“Yeah,” Angie says. She runs a hand through her hair, her eyes flicker over to the TV, not even registering what's on, just avoiding eye-contact with the other woman. 

God, why is she so fucking awkward?

"So," Cathrin says, breaking the silence, "Make yourself at home," she nods her head towards the bed, "It's a bit messy, I'm sorry, but I've been working."

When Angie doesn’t move Cathrin asks, "Would you like some water? Or something else?"

"No, I—", Angie pauses and shakes her head, "You know what, I should just go, leave you to it," she points towards the laptop.

“I’m done for the night,” Cathrin says, “It’s late.” She walks over to the mini bar, opens it and takes out a bottle of water. 

"Maybe I should go anyway, get out of your hair." 

_She’s pathetic._

Cathrin sighs. She puts the bottle on the counter, turns around to face Angie and leans back against it. "Why are you always so doubtful? Do you really think I'd ask you to come over if I didn't want you here?"

Angie shrugs, "It's part of your job."

"To have you here in the middle of the night?"

Angie laughs, “No, but… I don’t know. Maybe?”

“You can trust me, you know?”

“I trust you!”

“I’m really beginning to doubt that, Angie.”

What? “No,” Angie says, quickly, and she takes a few steps towards the other woman, “I trust you. I do.”

Cathrin says nothing.

“I mean it,” she adds, quietly.

It’s hopeless, she’s a hopeless case. Angie is pretty sure she’s in love with that woman, but instead of telling her or showing her or just behaving like a normal person for once she managed to piss her off which – honestly – she didn’t think that was even possible, because Cathrin is so… good. Too good. Too good for her, that much is clear.

“Okay,” Cathrin says then and she gives her a small smile and Angie kind of wants to scream, because - _stop letting me get away with my bullshit._ She also really, really wants to kiss her. Badly. 

So she just… does. She steps closer, closing that last bit of distance between them, she brings up a hand to Cathrin’s face, closes her eyes and kisses her. The kiss is soft, hesitant, still Angie can feel her own heart beating like crazy in her chest, both because – fuck – she wants this so fucking much, she wants _her_ so fucking much, and because she still expects to be pushed away any second now. It doesn’t happen, though, instead – just when she’s about to pull away to give Cathrin space and herself the chance to apologize, Cathrin pushes forward, both of her hands are dropping to Angie’s waist, grabbing her, pulling her close, and then she’s kissing her, really kissing her, just like Angie imagined she would during those few, sleepless nights when she couldn’t help but wonder.

Angie thinks she’s going crazy from it all, from the feel of it all, Cathrin’s lips against hers, Cathrin’s hands on her waist, one of them playing with the hem of her shirt and eventually _(finally)_ slipping beneath it. Angie’s body twitches, involuntarily, she lets out a soft, surprised moan at this sudden skin to skin contact and somehow this makes Cathrin stop and pull back and whisper, “Sorry, I… if you don’t---“

Don’t what? _Want that?_ Jesus.

“Please,” Angie says, “Just kiss me,” and she pulls Cathrin back in, kissing her deeply now and without hesitation. She tries to be bold then, starts pushing Cathrin backwards and towards her bed, the unmade one, the one with the rumpled sheets that had almost scared her off, earlier, and she’s still somewhat close to chickening out and running off. Not because she doesn’t want that, she does, she wants her so much, but because she still has no idea what she’s doing and where this is going and what this means and… she’s not good at this. Angie pushes these thoughts away for now, though, tries not to think about this just yet, tries to just let go and feel. 

She gives Cathrin a small shove that has her sinking down on the bed, her hands are still on Angie’s waist, pulling her with her so that she ends up standing between Cathrin's legs. Cathrin looks up at her then and there’s still a bit of hesitation, there’s still doubt written all over her face and Angie can’t believe that, because, honestly, she’s been pining for her for months and very obviously so, she thinks. So she gives Cathrin a smile, pushes that last bit of fear to the very back of her mind, for now, strips off her t-shirt, her bra, and straddles the other woman. Cathrin’s arms come around her waist, pulling her flush against her body and then they’re kissing again and Angie knows that there is no coming back from this. (Ever, probably, but she can’t think about this now.) Somehow Cathrin’s shirt comes off next, Angie kicks off her shoes, Cathrin helps her out of her sweats, scoots back, lies back and pulls Angie on top of her. 

This is when Angie’s brain seems to decide to start working again and she realizes that, honestly, seriously, she has no idea what she’s doing.

“Cathrin, I—“

“Hey, don’t worry,” Cathrin says. She turns them over then so that she is lying on top of Angie instead, one leg slipping between Angie’s two, one hand slowly brushing down her side, coming to rest on her hip. “You can say ‘stop’ anytime, okay?” Cathrin says, pressing her lips to Angie’s, “Okay?”

_As if._

She nods, though.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Cathrin,” she groans, pushing up against the leg that is pressed against her core,“ I want you.”

+++

Cathrin is being incredibly gentle with her, almost too gentle, too careful and caring, but Angie isn’t going to complain. She loves being taken care of by her, she always has, secretly. Which is, God, she’s so fucked, isn’t she? 

Cathrin is kissing down her stomach now, her hands are holding Angie down by her hips, keeping her from pushing upwards, impatiently, keeping her from seeking contact where she needs it the most right now. 

“Cathrin…”

She can feel the other woman smiling against her abdomen. How rude.

“Please.”

She has mercy with her then, hooks her fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties and slowly pulls them down and off and throws them on the floor. Angie squeezes her eyes shut and swallows hard, she wants this, she wants her, but… God. Cathrin settles down between her legs again then, she kisses the inner side of her left thigh, the inner side of her right thigh, and then she stops.

“Angie, look at me.”

Angie knows she’s shaking. She keeps her eyes closed, says nothing.

“Angie, I need a ‘yes’ from you.”

Really? How much more at her mercy can she even be?

“Yes,” Angie says, hardly audible, she reaches for the other woman, buries her hand in Cathrin’s hair, urging her down, “Please, I need you.”

This seems to convince her, because then Cathrin’s mouth is on her, kissing, licking and sucking, expertly. Angie almost wants to tell her to fucking _stop_ , because it’s too much, too quick, Angie can feel herself drifting towards orgasm already, but then the mouth is gone and Cathrin is kissing up her body until she’s lying right on top of her again, her mouth now pressed against Angie’s neck.

“You okay?”

Angie wants to laugh.  
Or hit her.  
Or just beg her to _please_ touch her again.

“Yeah.”

Cathrin pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks at Angie. Her lips are glistening and swollen and Angie could come just from this sight.

She is _so_ fucked.

Cathrin grins. Then she leans down and kisses Angie. Slowly, at first, but soon things are becoming more heated again. Angie opens her mouth, easily letting Cathrin in, she puts a hand behind her neck, pulling the other woman even closer, she lets her other hand slide down Cathrin’s naked back and pushes up against her. She’s being impatient again, she knows it, but she cannot take that any longer.

“Touch me,” Angie breathes.

Cathrin doesn’t make her wait this time, she puts a hand between them, lets it wander down Angie’s body, teases her for a second or two and just when Angie wants to tell her to fucking get on with it she presses inside her. 

Cathrin has her at the edge within, maybe, a minute, which is quite… something. Angie is gasping and moaning and completely unable to stop herself from grinding against that finger, the _two_ fingers that are inside of her now. Cathrin leans down then to kiss her neck, to suck on it, _hard_ , which—uh 

“Cath—Cathrin, you’re gonna—“

She pushes her fingers deep inside of Angie once more, presses the palm of her hand against Angie’s clit, starts _rubbing_ in circles and… that’s it. Angie comes, moaning something, Cathrin’s name, maybe, possibly, she doesn’t have any control over that right now.

+++

“Everything okay?” Cathrin asks. 

Angie rolls her eyes at that, grinning, “Will you ever stop asking me that?”

“Hmm," Cathrin smiles, "Do you want me to?”

“No,” Angie says, honestly, “I’m good,” she adds, shifting closer until she’s pressed up against Cathrin’s side again. She lets her fingers slide down her arm, watches the goose bumps rise, she puts her hand on Cathrin’s naked stomach, swallows and asks: “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t—“

“I want to,” Angie says and presses a kiss to Cathrin’s lips, “Just… show me.”

+++

The room is quiet and dark, Angie is lying on her stomach, one arm thrown across Cathrin’s waist, her thumb is drawing small circles on her skin. Angie is not a cuddler, just for the record. This is kind of nice, though. And maybe she’s also a little scared of whatever might happen once she moves away, once that closeness is gone. Once this night ends.

“Should I go?” she asks, quietly.

Cathrin turns to look at her, her eyes soft, “Do you want to?

Angie swallows, “No, but—“

“Then stay.”

It’s stupid and pathetic, but she needs to hear more than that.

“I want you to stay,” Cathrin adds, as if sensing that Angie is still not completely at ease (and she probably _can_ sense this, in fact, because Cathrin knows her too well already and she’s an open book around her anyway). Cathrin turns onto her side then. She brings up a hand to Angie’s face, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and leans in to kiss her. “Please stay,” she whispers.

Angie is so… in love with her.

She’s so fucked.

And so in love.

+++

Their eyes meet in the dressing room mirror and Cathrin grins.

“What?” Angie asks.

Cathrin raises a hand and touches her index finger to a part of Angie’s neck the other woman can’t possibly see. “So are tennis scarves a thing?”

“Uh?”

Cathrin steps closer, her arms come around Angie’s waist from behind, pulling her against her body. She presses a kiss to Angie’s neck and says, “You may have to cover that.”

“Wha—. You’re not serious!”

+++

_‘Oh my God, Angie?!’_

_‘I totally saw that.’_

_‘Just like the rest of the world, by the way.’_

_‘I can’t believe you didn’t inform me about this development!!!’_

_‘You have to tell me EVERYTHING. All the details.’_

_‘Maybe not ALLL the details. But you know what I mean.’_

_‘I can’t believe she gave you a hickey.’_

_‘I mean, A HICKEY?!”_

_‘So your girlfriend is possessive.’_

_‘A hickey.’_

_‘Y’all are too damn cute.’_

+++


End file.
